


Shame - Tram No. 12

by Midlifecrisis



Series: Tram [1]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Introspection, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 01:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20001544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midlifecrisis/pseuds/Midlifecrisis
Summary: So on my holiday to Oslo and my little Skam pilgrimage (which was AMAZING), I discovered that the no.12 tram that Isak took every day from the flat share to school, goes right past the Radisson Blu. That made me think...This scene takes place at the start of S3 ep9, before Isak goes back to school and has his revelatory conversation about bipolar with the amazing Magnus. He still misunderstands Even's condition. I just wanted to explore these few moments from Isak's perspective.





	Shame - Tram No. 12

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flatfootmonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flatfootmonster/gifts).



> This is a one off fic. I've tried to put myself into Isak's situation. Maybe I managed. Thank you to Flatfootmonster for their advice on writing a character's internal world. I'm still trying to do Even!

Waiting for the no. 12 tram to school, Isak reached up under his blue woollen hat and ripped the headphones out of his ears and stuffed them in his pocket. He couldn't settle listening to anything. Happy songs were vacuous and taunted him in his pain; Gangsta rap seemed ridiculous and pointless, just fake tough guys pretending to know anything about the realities of life; And sad songs? Embarrassingly they were too close to home, too painful. There was no way he was opening himself up to that!

He had experienced one of the worst days of his life, and in his pathetic seventeen year existence, that was really saying something. He should have known better: too good to be true was a phrase made especially for him.

He had spent yesterday trying to understand what the hell had happened. He had gone from being the most happy he had ever been, to his lowest point - all in the space of one night. Isak had given all of himself to Even. He had let himself be vulnerable, opening himself up emotionally and physically more than he ever had, to anyone. Ever.

When he closed his eyes now, he could look up and see Even lean over him, his ivory skin and long limbs. His plush, soft lips, calling to him to be tasted. His teasing half smile and hair falling rakishly over his eyes, his electric eyes. He could hear the groans and mutterings that they had made as they let themselves blur into each other. Whispering Even's name, just a breath, a sigh. His groans as he was touched with tenderness at first, and then deeper rumblings with Even's deliberate intent to set him on fire. He remembered Even's soothing phrases in return, telling him that he was beautiful, so hot, made just for him. The obscenities that they both breathed into each other's mouths. He could feel his kisses down his chest, the touch of his hands on his waist and the intimacy of his fingers as they opened him in every way possible. Isak was literally spread out before him. And the way he looked at him as they had joined, like he was worth something, worth cherishing...or so Isak had thought. For him it had been the most honest and real he had ever been. He gave Even everything that he had. 

But it had all been an illusion, a sick fantasy and he had been played for a fool.

So his reward for opening up? 

Pain. Pain and humiliation...and shame. Such overwhelming shame. Even didn't care at all for him. He never had. Even didn't want to know him. Even didn't want to make love to him. All Even wanted was someone, something to fuck, to chase his high with. Isak was Even's mania personified. Congealed into human form. And he felt himself burn with humiliation. He had been an idiot to think Even cared for him, wanted him and desired him. Why on earth would someone like him want a virgin closet case like Isak? He felt his face flush with heat, even in this biting cold. He hid his face in the scarf wrapped round and round his neck. Oh, the shame at supposing himself to be desirable.

Isak had spent the weekend in his room. At first just staying away from the world through sheer embarrassment. He couldn't face anyone, not even Eskild and his attempt at advice. When he had thought about Sonja's words, the accusations she spat at him, it had led him into doing some research. He read everything he could find on bipolar, and then...And then it all became clear. Oh yes, it was all so clear to him now. During the manic phase of bipolar disorder, the person becomes hypersexual, and would do anything to get themselves off. As the report had said, "During a manic phase, the individual often partakes in risky sexual behaviours and hurts loved ones in the process."

So there it was.

Even was "manic". Isak was the "risky sexual behaviour". Sonja was the "hurt loved one".

Oh the shame.

And so here he stood, in the winter cold, waiting for the no. 12 tram back to school. It was all finished with Even. Well, there was nothing to actually BE finished. If it hadn't been for the unexpected but welcome text from his Mama telling him that she loved him, Isak didn't know if he would have had the guts to show his face. As it stood, it was taking the full effort of his well practiced emotional armour just to wait at the tram stop and not turn back and climb under the covers and forget about everything. But his defences were back up. He could do this. Just stay cool. Stay calm. Show nothing. 

He stepped onto the tram and stood by the window looking out. The air from his mouth steamed the glass. His breath hitched and he felt his stomach lurch with nausea. He saw the smiling face of Even drawing a heart. No, not that. Anything but that. He quickly wiped the window to remove the evidence. 

He squared his shoulders and stood up straighter. His walls were in place, he would be fine. When Jonas asked, he would shrug it off as a casual thing, 

'Yeah Bro, we hooked up but...you know how these things are...it didn't mean anything...' 

Or perhaps he would admit to a little of the truth, 

'I suppose I liked him, but I think it was just a crush, dude. I just needed a bit of time. No need to go overboard'.

And then he looked out and felt his heart start to thump hard and fast in his chest. His breathing becoming shallow, almost impossible to get air into his lungs. 

Shit! 

Shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck. Fuck!

This stupid fucking tram. He had forgotten. How the fuck could he forget? There it was, up ahead, glaring and massive and obvious. The Radisson fucking Blu. A glass and steel monolith, towering over the city as an unavoidable representation of his fucking shame. Literally, his 'fucking' shame. 

The shame.

Oh God, Isak was lost. He felt his heart break all over again. The fear and adrenaline pounding through him as he searched round and round those streets, grasping a bundle of clothes, looking for Even. Terrified. Terrified about what might have happened to him but also terrified to find him, because what happened then? And Sonja's words. Telling him to stay away, that he was a symptom, making Even ill. His fault. Shame on him.

Isak felt the tears form in the corner of his eye. Oh god. No. No tears in public. He scrubbed viciously at his face. Not now. Please. Hold it together. How would he ever survive today if he couldn't even manage the journey? What would he tell them when they asked? 

He shoved his earphones back in a selected the first loud rap track he could find.

He could he do this, couldn't he? 

Oh the shame.


End file.
